Onside of the Highway
by Buko-koko
Summary: It wasn't until Alfred looked Matthew in the eye that he realized what the suitcase had meant. He began to wonder if he should beg and cry, but a side of him let Alfred leave the house. After all, Matthew was to follow soon after. AmericaxCanada AU
1. Chapter 1

**Onside the Highway**

**DEDICATION****: Simply put, this idea started when I was forced to write my mind in English class. Writing my mind meant writing Hetalia, so I ended up making this cute little story about runaways. I couldn't write it well, though. Ninety percent of this entire chapter was with the loving and dear help of **_**opehilasnorkels**_** (I have a link to her livejournal on my profile). She's an extremely good writer, and an extremely good beta at that. Once again, I have to say there is nothing in this accomplished without her, so I beg that if you enjoyed this, you go check her out. She was more of a part of this story then you'll believe.**

**Thank you opheliasnorkels!**

**Now onward, please enjoy.**

**----------**

There was always an extra suitcase under his brother's bed.

Matthew was never too curious about their room, other than the fact that no matter how many times he'd clean it in a day, by midnight, he was pretty sure there were always clothes and things scattered on the floor. By the time he finally got around to scolding his brother about it, the boy suddenly decided it was best to stuff everything under their bed. Matthew was not content with this idea, however, and decided to finally get around to cleaning his brother's idea-of-keeping-their-room-clean.

That's when he spotted a peculiar item of interest. One that he has, in fact, never seen before.

It was a small suitcase, brown, and could probably fit a couple more stacks of clothing then a normal traveling suitcase could. And it was incredibly old. Matthew would note this to himself as he'd drag it out from under the excessive burger wrappers, coughing at the flying dust. Yes, he'd eventually ask his roommate what it was, and he'd get simply "It's my prized possession". Doubtlessly, he's known his twin brother, Alfred, for a long time now, but he couldn't ever figure out why his prized possession was this poor-condition suitcase. As a matter of fact, Matthew could have sworn Alfred would have rather not moved out of America, claiming it as his one and only home.

Without much of a craving to move, why would he keep the dusty, old case?

Matthew, after a few visits to the item, figured it was probably something inside. However, after many attempts and cuts, he did get it open and found a surprising fact. The suitcase was empty. It was probably the cleanest thing in their room and the cleanest thing he'd ever seen Alfred keep. Maybe it was the fact that it was clean, and that Alfred secretly liked cleanliness, and that he was one of those weird popular kids who hid a side of themselves; Matthew would run though all the thoughts, but would find that this would never be the fact. Alfred was genuine, _real_, not like the other popular kids, and he was _definitely _not a clean person. He was at square one again, with an empty suitcase.

Matt never knew that such a stupid-sounding prized possession would suddenly become so important to him as well. He never even thought the possibilities of what happened _could _happen.

Or maybe he did, but he was one of those ignorant children who hated to see the truth.

He slowly shut the suitcase and pushed it back under the bed, hearing screams coming from the floor below after the car pulled up. It was his parents, definitely. Alfred wasn't talking, which meant it was another serious one.

Reluctantly, he strode downstairs.

**Chapter 1: Black Concrete**

The sun gleamed mercilessly down on the children standing in a straight line on the track. If the blistering heat was not a reason enough for the boys to be sweating bullets, the coach's dry and sour look could have matched, if not outdo, said temperature.

The tall man paced up and down the isle of young men giving unforgiving side glances back and forth. Matthew kept his hand to his sides and looked down, trying to avoid angering him anymore than he was. Knowing his school's P.E. coach, the man probably couldn't stand the most innocent gesture when he was angry. Plan translated, he avoided eye contact, occasionally shifting his weight from leg to leg trying to go as unnoticed as he _usually_ is. However, the deed seemed to only do the opposite of what was intended.

The irritated coach stopped in front of him and glared daggers before sucking in air. "What are you hiding for, maggot?!"

Matt flinched immediately to the yell. He felt particles of flying spit hit the top of his hair as the class gave him a collected "oohhh." _This is great, perfect. Yeah, just great_.

Not wanting to infuriate the teacher any further, he slowly turned his head upwards, gleaming blue eyes showing obvious discomfort to his coach's radiating anger. The coach's eyes displayed the direct opposite, practically burning his red glare into the secluded corners of Matt's mind.

The time when the-most-ignored-kid-in-school, Matthew Jones, was actually noted, it had to be the worst time possible. Not the mention the fact that he felt, _felt_, Alfred's shit-eating grin from beside him. Being younger of the not-quite-identical twins (which Matt was secretly glad for), Matthew absolutely dreaded his brother. The boy was athletically adept, was madly sexy_ and _was absolutely, positively an asshole. No one would even _agree_ that they were related, Matthew being that one kid no one even knew. The younger, obviously unhappy with his brother's mockery, gave a quick nudge, frowning. The older snickered, figuring it was like a game, and nudged back. However, compared to Matthew's push, Alfred's push was not as user friendly. He staggered a bit then straightened himself before the coach was able to sense his near-fall; he bit his lip back and thought, _This isn't going so well_.

And why were they in this situation now? Well…

Matthew knew he should have tried to stop his brother from, once again, doing the unspeakable. Alfred ran a full-on raid through the girl's locker room. Matthew was one hundred percent against this, but it didn't stop Alfred from throwing the younger on his shoulder and _forcing _him to join in. And to add to the millions of bruises they all suffered from the severely harsh hits they took from inanimate objects, they were now in _deep shit. _If Al wasn't so_ ungodly_ strong, Matt would have… well, there were just too many things he needed to get back at Al for being ungodly strong. He kept these thoughts to himself, however, as the teacher grunted and continued pacing. Letting out a long sigh of relief, he wiped the excess sweat off his forehead, swearing he heard Alfred say something about his girly stature or that he should be back in the gym with the girls. Disregarding this, he continued to listen, not willing to get another death glare from the coach.

"You boys are _shameless_," he started, crossing his arms and giving side glares again. Matthew did a side glare too. In his brother's general direction. "And you boys expect to get any attention from girls because of this? No, they HATE IT." The coach spat, getting some other kid square in the face. Said kid began frantically rubbing his face with his shirt, the coach leaving and continuing his speech. "So I've asked one of our poor female victims what we should do to these idiotic, testosterone-driven men, and I've agreed to make you run three miles for the hour. Maybe I can drag out the boys who actually have _estrogen_." There was a collected moan, excepting a certain somebody that decided to stand right next to Matthew, a certain somebody who was obviously snickering 'Matthew does' through his laughter.

Matthew was not amused.

**----------**

After much dodging, glaring, swerving, running, and prancing, Matthew managed to avoid his twin brother for the rest of the day after that. Despite the fact that all these activities were rather stressful after painfully almost making it through three miles (he had made it through two before collapsing, getting laughed at by his brother who was easily running his fifth), he was actually proud of his work. After a while, the dense, blond idiot finally noticed the avoidance and started looking a bit dejected.

And being a nerd, Matt snickered to himself with a grin, "Just as planned." And, just as stated, his blood, sweat, and tears were paying off. Alfred was nowhere to be seen.

Though his confidence swelled, it didn't stop Matthew from expecting the sudden burst from behind as he attempted to grab his books for homework. Abruptly, he slammed into his locker, face getting entangled with a bunch of honor's books. Accompanied with the unnamed force that overtook him, there was a very loud "MAATHHHEEEWWWW!" from behind him.

Honestly, there could be better ways of apologizing, but Alfred, being the dense, blond idiot he was, obviously never took note of these things. And Matt swore he heard his nose make a dangerous _crack_-ing sound.

"Alfred! Get the hell off me!" he yelled, breaking from the hold and turning to his hyper brother. Turning around was probably not the best idea though, seeing as Alfred's face was twisted into the most innocent-looking pout. Matthew cursed to himself; his words of guns and knives were always extracted from him when this happened, but with cutely curved lips and glimmering, blue eyes, who could even think of anything coherent enough to be a comeback?

"Are you angry at me, Matt?" _No shit Sherlock, _Matthew immediately responded in his head, only giving a blank frown at his thick-headed brother. The moment was short lived though; it wasn't long before Alfred's saddened look was replaced with a mischievous grin. Matthew opened his mouth to cuss him off about being so rude, but Al had beaten him to it. "You're bleeding."

Unconsciously, the younger brought his hand to his nose then back to where it was visible; from the fingers that had touched his nose, all the way to the bump of his palm, there were streams of blood.

Before any right and rational thoughts came to mind, he dropped his books and bit his lip, "S-Shit, Alfred!" he stuttered, frantically looking around for some sort of material to block the red substance from running so fast. His search was fruitless, so he did the next best thing. "Can't you control yourself?! Dammit, get me a tissue!"

Alfred didn't make a move to help, only laughing.

Enraged, Matt swung a not-so-powerful kick to the other twin's shin, but ended up missing and slipping back, hitting his head against the lockers.

To no one's surprise, this went unnoticed. The good thing about it was that no one was laughing at his failure of a kick, or at the fact the blood on his nose flew up and covered the door of his locker. The bad thing about this was that no one had enough vision to the unseen to actually help him as his _one and only brother_ sat there laughing his ass off at the situation.

To Matthew's surprise (and benefit), Alfred's almost-non-existent _humane _side, after about five minutes of watching Matt lay there screaming nonsense at his diabolical brother, decided it was time to actually help his younger twin and get some tissues. They got the locker door clean quickly and scurried away afterwards. Matthew was still fuming, wad of tissues to his nose as they walked silently down the block to their house.

"I'm sorry I broke your nose," Alfred said after a long, silent while. He was still grinning however. Whatever sick joy Al got from this, Matt swore to kill it.

"And?" Matthew added, giving a pout to his brother. The other looked a little taken aback, but after a bit of thinking, he laughed sheepishly and responded.

"_And _staging the plan to run into the girl's locker room—but come on, Matt, the running wasn't _that _bad. He could have made us do yoga for an hour." Matt would have rather done yoga for an hour, but in order to at least retain some of his manliness, he decided against verbalizing this. His attempt to contain his reputation was in vain as Alfred continued. "Oh yeah, you didn't even make it through three laps and got a D."

He was smirking again. So much for sweet apologizes.

In a rage, Matt slapped him with a bloody hand, gaining a disgusted moan from his brother and an incoherent string of curses. Matthew didn't listen though. It was his fault he was bleeding, and didn't they have a somewhat-resemblance of the same type of blood anyway?

After Alfred finally cooled off he stole some extra tissues he got for Matt and wiped the red substance off. "You're disgusting." he complained, throwing the tissue in a nearby trash. Matt did the same, nose having stopped bleeding.

"Well, you're an asshole." He responded, biting his lip. Alfred stuck his tongue out indignantly at this, and Matt, losing all sense of responsibility, mirrored the act. However, after quite a time, they decided such a fight was getting them nowhere, huffed, and then turned away from each other with crossed arms.

Matthew hated his brother for being an asshole. Alfred was annoyed with how stuck-up Matthew is.

It was just the way brothers are, and were, and would ever be. Or at least for them. Matt, still turned away from his insane brother, bit his lip back in disapproval. Alfred wasn't actually always like this, he would say to himself every time. It almost hurt to think back and remember the Alfred he actually used to adore.

"We're almost home." Alfred said, still turned away. Matthew pouted and huffed.

"Because I forgot where we lived!" Matt spat sarcastically. This went unheard though, as they noticed a familiar business vehicle parked in front of their house. Neither said a thing, but both silently agreed on slowing their pace.

As they did so, a loud _crash_ emitted from the house. Matthew bit his lip and stopped walking. He only stared blankly at the household they had to call home. Alfred stopped as soon as he noticed that his brother was no longer beside him. Turning back, lips pressed together, he breathed out, "Papa's home."

The loud, obnoxious fight that had transpired suddenly seemed like the best thing in the world to them. They were beginning to wish they hadn't walked home, that they had stayed at school, cleaning the locker a bit more slowly.

Matthew and Alfred stared at each other's eyes for the longest time, unmoving, trying to ignore the audible screams.

"Dad's drunk again isn't he?" Matthew finally responded after a while. Alfred continued to stare, unresponsive. There was another yell, and Matthew immediately flinched. Alfred almost reached out and held him, but stopped himself fast enough for it to look like a flinch. The younger frowned at this, knowing exactly what Al almost did. And honestly, he wished that his brother hadn't stopped. They both wanted that hug, but both knew that there was too much change for it too actually happen. Matthew looked at the ground, slightly disturbed at the still silence before walking past the frozen Alfred. "We should just get home, Al."

Alfred stood unmoving for a while longer, biting his lip. He was disgusted with himself.

Before, when things like this happened, he would always hold Matthew and coax him that it was going to be just fine. But it was different now, they were different now. Matt didn't turn around, and Al just clenched his fists.

How much longer will it go on like this?

**----------**

Arthur grinded his teeth, harnessing a bottle of strong beer in his hand, as the other man above him moved closer. "I'm home." The taller man said, leaning the other over the table. It wasn't long before butterfly kisses ran up and down the intoxicated man's neck, sending unwanted shivers down his spine. He groaned, half-drunk, and kicked the other man off, cursing to himself.

"Francis, get the fuck off! The children are coming home from school, you bloody pervert!" he yelled, breath harvesting obvious traces of alcohol. Francis could tell by the smell of it that it was pretty strong. He showed obvious discomfort to this as he stood up from the table, and away from the irate drunkard.

"What are _you _doing drunk at the table if you know the kids are coming home from school today?" He walked around the table and smashed his cigarette into the holder, putting it out. Arthur pushed his bottom lip out, half because of his drunken mind and half because it was the only way he knew how to express his angers in these situations these days.

"Don't bullshit me just yet you bloody git! Any god damn whore can tell where the fuck you've been. Bloody business trip my ass! And I swear to GOD that there ain't no bloody cunt that can bear poorer lies!" The smaller man stood up, tossing the beer bottle to the wall, causing an audible _smash_. The bottle shattered into many tiny, red pieces, leaving a dent on the wall that looked as if it had been there before. Arthur closed in on the other man. "And give one more bloody excuse for bullshitting away from this family because you have 'better things to do with your life' and I'll bloody make sure the one thing that makes you able to do those bloody things will no longer exist!" He paused, sighed, then staggered over to the other man, attempting to stand up straight. His posture wavered a little more before he looked up with a flustered glare, "That, or you _will _get out of my bloody house and leave _my _children alone you git!"

Disregarding the first few said things, Francis held his partner in marriage steady and pressed his lips together into a tight line, "And you think you can take care of those two on your own?" Francis mocked, glaring back, not even commenting back about his unfaithfulness. The smaller man looked down quickly, mouth quivering as he began to bang weak fists on the other's chest.

"We have them here right now because you and I agreed that, as a gay couple, we can work together to make a bloody family work! But obviously a bloody git found out he was bisexual and is going out with different cunt-whores every night. I'd rather _my _boys be bastards than to have twenty bloody half-brothers and sisters!" A fist was thrown but caught. Arthur was obviously still too drunk to fight.

But Francis didn't comment to this, only glaring at his 'wife.' He let go of the fist and lifted the other man on his shoulder. Arthur threw kicks and punches, all in which having horrible direction and hitting everything other than their destination. When Francis opened the door to their shared room (which he obviously hadn't been in for uncountable nights) and dumped Arthur on the bed, he was still throwing a fit. Francis walked to the door with a growling frown. Glaring, he lingered with final words. "I'm not letting the kids see you like this, Arthur," he said simply before shutting the door.

"You mean _my _kids, you sick FUCK!" From behind the thin wall, the other man cried loudly, shouting strings of curses about how they were no longer Francis's children. The Frenchman frowned unhappily and walked downstairs calmly, grabbing a sweep and mop to clean up the mess.

The boys would be home soon.

**----------**

**A/N****: This was more or less an introduction. I didn't put much development in here, but I wasn't really focusing on character introduction either huh? …Well, maybe it was a tad bit useless, but here's the exposition! Thank you for reading, please review?**


	2. Learning Love not War

**A/N: HAAA. IT'S BEEN A WHILE HI GAISE. Pfft. I've gotten a lot of stuff I haven't replied to for my stories, mostly because I died nearly the beginning of the year due to some unexpected events and didn't feel like writing. Truth be told, this chapter's been written for _months_ now. I just haven't gotten the heart to take out the beta notes and post it. Oh! Which reminds me. If you see random talking in parenthesis, can someone yell at me to take it out? Pfft. I didn't look over this too much (or, as must as I should have) and me and my beta _might just _have some stuff still there AHAHAH. Ignore.**

**Anyway, thanks so much for the nice reviews. I promise I'll see what I can reply to after I write another chapter for my other story too. I think I'm going to at least attempt not running away from work again.**

**Please enjoy~**

----------

Matthew found a few things obviously off the next morning.

Their papa had left without as much as a goodbye. Usually the man would, if not to Arthur, at least to his children leave a kiss and hug before leaving to his work. The fact that his business car, which had arrived the day before, was long gone easily proved this observation. The next thing was that their dad was not exactly home either. _His_ car was still parked in the garage, but their dad was definitely not home. Alfred had the nerve to barge in to their parents' room that morning to call Arthur down for breakfast, but no one was in the room. The men had left without trace, even the bed was folded neatly when it was usually a mess of sheets. Not to mention it also looked as if it had been untouched for about five hours now. It was clear their parents had left sometime in the night; this was not unusual, but it was still rather shocking for a weekday morning. Lastly, Matthew also noticed the dent in the wall, which he so kindly noted the afternoon before, had completely vanished.

Alfred sat at the table, twiddling his fork around with a frown. They still had school, and this wasn't the only time their parents went completely AWOL on them. Matthew just bit his lip and continued cooking the eggs, actually depending on Alfred to start small talk to make the atmosphere a little less uncomfortable.

It was just a pretty darn sad thing that Alfred just couldn't read the atmosphere. "Hey, Matty. Why did you faint last night?"

And really, as much as Matthew would rather have not recalled what happened, he did.

**----------**

**Chapter 2: Learning Love not War**

It was just about the edge of four o'clock when Alfred slowly turned the knob of the door to their house and entered. Matthew followed leisurely after, trying to keep a fake smile on his face.

Francis, their papa, was sitting calmly at the table with the bandages out. He was in the middle of applying a band-aid to his left index finger when he turned with an easy grin. "Matthew, Alfred, welcome back!" Alfred gave him a simple nod and turned away towards the living room, while Matthew took the time to walk over and hug his papa. The man hugged him back with a happy grin, hand rubbing his son's back affectionately. "How was your day?" Matthew didn't move to answer, taking note of something he found interesting from behind Francis's back. While the cause was not clear, the effect was. There was a heavy dent on a wall in the kitchen.

Before Matthew realized that he was probably taking too long to answer, his luck sparked having Al beat him to it. "Good," the older muttered from the living room, remote control in hand. With a zap, the TV turned on to some football channel, only to fade to the next channel by a thoughtless student. When that channel failed to amuse him, the remote would be clicked again and again until it did. It was evident Alfred never usually watched TV. He only turned the thing on when his papa came home. The habit actually came about recently when their parents started fighting, but only Matthew noticed this, thankfully.

"Alfred, remember what Dad said about your homework," Francis said sternly, almost making it _seem_ like he cared about their dad's rules. But he didn't. Everyone knew that.

"I don't have homework," the boy immediately replied, returning to his sense of enjoyment. Matthew knew this wasn't true, but Alfred seemed to get away with it every time so he made no comment against this. Plus, Matt's own blue eyes were glued to the screen.

It wasn't long before the news came on. A picture of a boy with luscious brown hair was shown, and in a rush, Matthew immediately jumped the couch and wrestled the controller out of his brother's hand. Usually, this would not work, and it would end up with Matthew getting an injury of some kind. But Alfred wanted to see what was going on in the news too, so despite the violence, he handed the remote over and watched the screen. Matthew, sitting in an awkward position on top of his brother, did the same.

"The mayor's son had disappeared earlier this morning." It was around the time that was said when Francis strode into the room and sat next to his sons, both in which were sitting in very, very weird positions, limbs entangled. Information burst from the woman's voice as they toured the mayor's son's room. Matthew frowned at this. Wasn't it personal? Why would they want to show this on the news? "It is claimed he ran away due to the stress of the household." At that sentence, Francis had easily taken the controller and shut off the TV. Alfred made an audible moan followed by something that resembled, "But that was interesting, papa!"

Matthew didn't make a move or indication of his own disapproval, but he wasn't exactly happy either with the fact that his papa had turned off the TV during such an important-sounding headline. Alfred still had his half-surprised, half-angered look on, and Matthew was sitting on the floor with a saddened frown. Francis simply turned to them with a candid smile. "Now, we don't need to hear what's going on with other kids in town, do we?" he said simply before standing. Alfred, finally noticing that he and his brother were entangled, shoved Matt off and stood up himself.

"Yeah, we do!" he argued, "What, are you worried that we'll do the same? You are, aren't you?" Just listening to his brother yell gave Matthew a headache. He sat up from his new position on the floor to look at his papa's face.

The man looked like he had just seen his life pass by him. He paled then quickly got red with anger as his blue eyes glared daggers into his older son. "Are you saying you would?" The words came out dry and sour. They wrenched into Matthew's heart and drilled holes at every spot where it hurt. Trying not to look weak, the younger continued to listen, all sense of life draining from his form on the ground.

"What if I did, Papa? Huh? What would you do then?" What had fired Alfred up, Matthew would probably never find out. But he did know that Alfred, for once, was being completely serious about what he was saying. Not a word lacked feeling or emotion. Both were pretty upset with what had been happening lately, but not a move had been taken against it until just then. Matthew felt dizzy.

"I don't know where you're going with this, young man," Francis said sternly, walking closer. "But you'd better not do anything stupid. I'm very close to making sure you'll be rather grounded for a long time."

Matthew muttered to himself that Francis had no watch over how long he was grounded. It had almost been about a month since he had left last, and usually, he'd only come home for about a day. Unless he somehow made Arthur, who was obviously not happy with him either at the moment, watch over this, there was no way for him to know. Alfred probably knew this too, seeing as he was pushing it. Bad.

"You know exactly where I'm going with this, Papa. And you know what? I don't see you more than once a month, so what would you know about what I do?" Matthew noted, yes, Alfred had been aware of this. "And Dad hasn't been too happy with how long you're gone either."

"You know I have to go to work to pay for this house and you guys," Francis argued calmly, fists clenching at his sides. "When you're older, you'll understand why I'm gone so much."

"Na-uh!" Alfred yelled, face twisted as his mouth opened wide to match the intensity of his yell. Matthew had never seen his twin brother so angry in his life, and he felt his entire body went limp in the need to slip away. He wanted to pretend this wasn't happening, that he never saw it, but he knew that it just wouldn't work that way and stayed to watch. "I know _exactly _what you've been doing, and so has Dad. This has nothing to do with money at all!"

Creaks of the floorboard of their stairwell silenced both blond men. Arthur had awoken due to the screams, slightly hung over, but still well enough to get downstairs in one piece. The younger of the twins stood up immediately and excused himself; this would have worked if Arthur hadn't pushed him back into the living room.

"Well, Francis?" he said accusingly. The oldest of the family members flinched then glared.

"Did you tell them, Arthur?" he sneered through gritted teeth. Arthur shook his head. "So then it is true." They seemed to make some sort of mutual agreement before they walked up the stairs together. Alfred's tensed shoulders relaxed as confusion took over him, and Matthew just stared with a pale face. The room was starting to shift from its original position, and he had to move to stop himself from falling over.

Arthur, following Francis, turned one last time to say, "You guys take care of each other, Papa and I have a lot of important things to discuss. Don't forget to eat and get to bed. And Alfred? I _know_ you have homework. Get it done." And that was the last thing they heard from him before both of their parents began silent arguments from behind closed doors.

Matthew couldn't take it anymore.

"Matt? Matty, are you okay?" Alfred's voice filled his mind as his eyes began to blur completely. He felt strong arms catch him from behind as the room began to dim into darkness. Alfred was saying something, asking something, probably wondering what was going on. Matthew didn't answer, he didn't know either, and it wasn't long before these words became incomprehensible. He fell into a deep faint. But the feeling of those strong arms never left him, nor did the fact that for once in many years, the strong arms weren't used to hurt him.

Matthew felt content with just that.

**----------**

The younger twin had gotten away with just saying that he probably lost too much blood because of his nose injury the day before. Matthew knew, through biological means, that it couldn't be true for him, but Alfred believed it. So that just slid through easily.

They walked to school as silent as ever, Matthew thinking about where his parents had gone, and Alfred thinking of excuses for his unfinished homework. It wasn't more than a block past their house that a car stopped next to them, a nice-looking young man with black hair and matching black eyes looking out the window rather innocently. "I'm sorry to intrude or seem awkward, but do you know where the Jones residence is?" Though his looks and words were kind, his voice was stern. It was almost as he trained his voice to sound moving, because it definitely was. Just questions, and yes, the twins suddenly felt very _moved_.

Matthew was about to state that it was their house, but Alfred stopped him. "Just a block down. It's a big blue house, you won't miss it." The man gave a nod then frowned.

"You two wouldn't be…?" Alfred looked at his brother, who shrugged in return. Neither of them figured the man was anything near a rapist, so they complied and answered.

"Yeah. We're their sons," Alfred said, lips pressed together.

"…So young," the man seemed to murmur to himself before giving a smile. "I do not want this to come off as a shock to you, so I'm going to have to keep my job a secret. I'm sure your parents will tell you sooner or later what's going on. But I might as well get acquainted now. I'm Kiku Honda, and you might see me quite frequently."

"I'm Matthew Jones," the younger introduced then pointed to his brother, "and this is Alfred Jones. Can you at least tell us why?"

The Asian, as they figured since he still had somewhat of an accent to his tone, smiled then sighed to himself. "Legal matters," he said then gave them a sweet goodbye and drove away. Matthew and Alfred looked at each other quite awkwardly as they pondered the two words. They didn't look back as they walked to school after that.

**----------**

Alfred spent his morning bullshitting his teachers with the weirdest excuses. They didn't fly, but they didn't fail to give the classes a great laugh. Still, Matthew felt that he didn't want to be associated with his brother for the rest of the day. The older was well-known, but it didn't mean he was the most popular.

However, the younger's plans for this shattered as Alfred easily caught up behind him at lunch. "Hey, Matt! Good day, right?"

It's just so sad how Alfred just _could not _understand anything outside of the borders of his mind. Matthew groaned to himself. "You seriously think some type of asexually reproducing snail would show up at our house, giving you an excuse to not do you biology homework? That's so—"

"Amazing, right?" Alfred finished, nabbing some apple sauce and slapping it onto his plate. Matthew rolled his eyes and did the same before they sat down together, eating their burgers. They joined a table with some weird transvestite, a fidgety kid, an extremely tall southern guy, and a quiet, normal-looking boy. No one at the table usually conversed with the rest of the school, let alone with each other. Except for the southern guy and the normal-looking boy, who Matthew _swore _were going out but could never find the courage to ask. Neither of the twins could put their finger on the names, despite the fact the entire group had been sitting together at lunch for about a year and a half. Alfred referred to the table as "the group that's not so groupy." Matthew just thought of it as the people who just ate lunch, no talking. Their French father would not approve of this.

"Um…" the fidgety kid said all of the sudden, "I don't want to sound too weird, but we've been sitting together for quite a long time and I don't know any of your names." It's always the awkward one who'll end up talking in the extreme silences.

The blond transvestite, who, to Matthew's relief, was wearing the right uniform that day made a weird grin. "Oh, like, I totally know all your names." It was almost typical of what you would expect that type of person to say. Matthew didn't comment on this though, as much as he wanted to. She-he pointed to Matthew first and grinned. "You're that kid who's nose bled all over his locker yesterday, Matthew, right?" That was the very first time someone other than Alfred remembered his name and the very first time Matthew wanted to keel over and die making a friend at school.

Well, it had been the first time he _made a friend_ at school.

"And I'm his brother Alfred!" the older twin called out, sticking his thumb to his chest as if being the brother of some kid with a bloody nose was something to be _extremely _proud of. No one commented at this, only giving him a 'nice to meet you look' before turning to the next victim.

That very victim blinked a bit before answering.

"I'm Tino," said the most normal looking one at the table. His voice was quite hushed, as if he was too afraid to let the world know him. The kid with the southern accent next to him turned his stoic face over next and didn't make anything that resembled a smile.

"'m Bernard."

"H-hi, everyone," said the person who spoke first. "I'm Raivis, it's great to finally know your names. Can we be friends from now on?"

Everyone at the table nodded, the transvestite adding a "Like, totally!" to the end of the conversation. After they had started talking, they didn't stop until the bell rang. Matthew had to admit to himself that he felt so much better knowing that he had more people than his weirdo brother to trust at school, and he was sure that said weirdo brother was probably secretly happy too.

**----------**

They got home without too much of a fuss. Alfred was, for once, not being so much of an ass. Matthew figured it was because someone was finally nice to him, and he just didn't know how to react. Alfred was too busy acting all mighty to ward away depression to actually be happy, Matt would figure after a while of silent contemplation. But the younger didn't know whether or not this was true, or if Alfred was just hungry.

Matt was seriously about to believe the former when Alfred laughed obnoxiously. "I think that transvestite guy likes you." And no, Matthew no longer believed Alfred had a heart.

When they arrived at their destination, they found that the man's, Kiku Honda's, car was parked right outside their household, along with their papa's car which hadn't been there that morning. It was either Alfred was anxious to know what Kiku's job was, or the fact that he was overconfident since that day's lunch period, but he didn't pause and barged into the house that afternoon. Matthew had to run after, constantly making comments of displeasure to his brother's antics.

That time, both of their parents were sitting at the table, across from Kiku. They paused in their conversation to look at the arriving children, but didn't state a word of welcome. Not even their papa, who usually faked such an act, but did it nonetheless. Alfred suddenly felt queasy and didn't move from the door. Matthew was peeking from over his shoulder.

And neither could believe it was Kiku who spoke first. "You're back. I think you two should take a seat next to your parents, we'd better just get it all over with." Alfred gave him a weird look before slowly stepping into the house. Matthew did the same, just as confused. They each took a seat at either side of the table, across from each other. When everyone looked as if they had the slight resemblance of comfort, Kiku began speaking. "Well? Wouldn't it be better this way?"

Arthur made a slight frown then glared at Francis, who in turn looked away with a hurt look.

"…Where were you guys this morning?" Alfred finally said, losing the ability to fit in the moment's feeling and atmosphere. Honestly, he was doing well until just then, in which he reverted back to his not-understanding-the-world-around-him self.

"We, uh," Arthur started, biting his lip, "we had to go somewhere important. Your Papa and I have been discussing this for a while now, and after what you said yesterday, we definitely decided that this was going to happen." He stopped after that, not giving the conclusion. Kiku gave him a weird stare.

"Mr. Jones, sir, wouldn't it be better just to get it out?" His voice was kind and stern, just like the voice they had heard that morning from him.

"It—I…" was all he got out of their dad. He didn't try to make a sound after that, and Francis was visibly too uncomfortable to do so either. It was obvious they were starting to doubt their decision.

But Matthew still perceived where this was going. It wasn't too hard to figure out. However, a part of him ignored it, pushed it away. As much as the act in question would make things better, they'd been a family for quite a long time. Their parents couldn't just tear it apart like this, especially without even a word about it being said the day before. It was too sudden. His thoughts wandered a bit too far, and he felt the headache he had the afternoon before coming back, so he distracted himself by looking at Kiku's frown.

"I guess I'll start." Kiku sighed after a while of silent nothings. "I'm a trained lawyer. I've dealt with many cases like this, and it's actually my specialty. Remember what I said? Legal matters?" Alfred and Matthew nodded to him before waiting for him to continue, "Can you tell me how long your parents have been fighting now?"

"A year," Alfred said quietly, the quietest voice he'd ever made. A year ago, their family was just as perfect as everyone else's. Arthur wasn't even drinking.

Kiku gave a nod then turned to the younger. "Tell me the truth, now, Matthew. How do you two feel about these fights?"

Alfred and Matthew looked at each other. They felt dreadful. It used to be once a week, then it became once a month, that Francis would check in at home. Their papa wasn't coming home as much, their dad was getting angry. And when their papa did come home, there would be a loud fight somewhere in the house, crashes and the sort. Swear words would fly everywhere. Sometimes, Matthew would cry himself to sleep; sometimes Alfred would stab at old belongings that reminded him of the times that they were happy. When they'd wake up, sometimes their parents would look dreadful, sometimes they'd be covered in scars and bandages and blood. But they'd hide it behind a candid smile, a smile that made it too uncomfortable to be at home.

They summed it all up, however, with a harmonious, "Bad."

Kiku nodded as if he had read their thoughts, seen their past. He jotted down notes quickly then looked up to their parents. "Well?"

Alfred and Matthew looked at Francis and Arthur expectantly as well. Finally, the two stopped fidgeting and looked their sons in the eye. Kiku nodded for them to continue, reassuringly. It was a decision they had to make, and it was made for a reason. They would have to come to understand that eventually.

And finally, Arthur looked up with watery eyes, "Matthew, Alfred," he started, voice quivering, "your papa and I are getting divorced."

All that stuck in Matthew's mind after that was the loud slam of Alfred's fists onto the table before the older stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to his room. Kiku had eventually given Matthew the word that he should follow, and he did. It left their parents to weep to themselves, feeling as if they ruined something that they had worked so many years to build.

They should feel that way, Matthew thought in spite after he opened the door after Alfred and walked in. Alfred was crying. He didn't stop crying until he slept. Matthew tried to be the more mature brother and kept it to himself, but not too soon after he found that he wasn't going to be able to sleep that night, he started to cry.

_He drops his suitcase by the door._

_She knows that daddy won't be back anymore._

He twiddled with his iPod's wire as he tried to keep his unsteady breaths as quiet as possible. Kiku had long since left, having had their papa and dad sign the legal papers. He heard them go back to their room and sleep. Even they got sleep, but Matthew didn't.

_She drags her feet up off the floor_

_Tryin' to hold up time, to keep him holding on._

_She says,_

"We won't ever leave you two alone," Francis said once, a day they went to the park and Matthew had gotten lost. He was crying buckets, and Alfred was patting his head. "You don't have to worry about anything, Matthew, my son." Nine years ago, they were just six, and their family was just as great as any other heterosexual family. The promise was true and from the heart but slowly faded in the years they grew. Matthew wondered where his papa had been every day he was gone, and he would wonder the same darn thing.

_"Daddy, Daddy don't leave. _

_I'll do anything to keep you_

_Right here with me_

_Can't you see how much I need you?_

_"Daddy, Daddy don't leave_

_Mommy's saying things she don't mean!_

_She don't know what she's talking about,_

_Somebody hear me out._

That day, Arthur had bought the twins ice cream to make them feel better. Francis was holding him in his arms as he handed the ice cream over. They were joking around, and it ended with a kiss. Alfred would smile like an idiot at this, every time. Matthew wouldn't admit his face looked just the same. They loved each other to the point of death, where did they go wrong?

_"Father, listen._

_Tell him that he's got a home_

_And he don't have to go._

_Father, save him._

_I will do anything in return._

_"I'll clean my room,_

_Try hard in school,_

_I'll be good, I promise you,_

_Father, Father!"_

Matthew shut his iPod off and stood up, staring at his brother on the other side of the bed. He was sleeping calmly, glasses put on the shelf neatly. His eyes were still a tad red-rimmed, and he was hugging his shoulders on the other side of the bed. The younger bit his lip and blushed. Clearly, he knew exactly what he wanted to have at least for that night in order to get some sleep. This was a long shot, but he really didn't care.

He gave his brother a poke. The other blond turned and looked at him with blood-red eyes, matching the reddened rims. "What, Matt?"

Matthew gulped; this would probably be blackmail for a year. After about a three minute thinking period, however, he decided he didn't care. "Alfred, I'm scared."

Alfred gave him a look, but it wasn't a what-the-hell type of look, it was more of a look that asked him if he was sure. But he gave no word of concern as he wrapped his arms around his brother and went back to sleep. Matthew scrunched into Alfred's warmth and stopped crying. It was so comfortable, and his heart was fluttering at the feel of his brother's arms around him. The world seemed to fall apart and become anew. It didn't matter to him anymore what happened, his brother was there, and that was all he needed.

And quietly, he finished the song, "_I'll pray to you_."

----------

**A/N: I've got a lovely buncha coconuts. DoodliDoodli... oh cr--**

**You didn't hear that.**

**Feedback appreciated!**

**----------**


	3. Lost Boyfriends and Brothers

**A/N: Ha. It's still Thursday. No, you cannot nag at me for it being nine o'clock at night where I am because it's not and you're lying and no I didn't not just glance at the clock.**

**Thank you so much again everyone for the reviews and support! Also, Thank you. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. To OpheliaSnorkels (Link on my profile. Go to her. Look at her beautiful writing. If you think this is good, I swear to you that your eyes will never peel from her page again) for helping beta this. NONE of this is itself without her help. I'm not joking.**

**A-A-Anyway, onward to the story! I promise this is the last intro/exposition/character introduction chapter. I'll finally start the plot Chapter four.**

**-----  
**

Matthew woke up cold.

The covers of his brother's bed were thrown from half of the side his body recklessly. Matthew mused that his brother could have _at least_ had the decency to cover his younger sibling again after carelessly jumping out of bed like he usually does. How Matthew didn't wake up when that happened may be an effect of living with such a careless, dirty brother for a good portion of his life. In order to deal with it, just ignore it, he told himself unwillingly before swinging one cold leg and one warm leg across the bed and over the ledge before stretching his arms up and yawning.

He winced as a huff of his own morning breath filled his nose.

The curtains were pulled to the side neatly revealing a nice, morning sunny gleam that splayed like paint across the room, only not reaching the darkest corners that seemed so _desolate_ and _lonely_.

The younger twin couldn't help but frown as he realized that it wasn't _just_ those corners that were left in the dark. His heart couldn't help but feel that the entire house he sat upon felt that way. It no longer felt like a home should. Where did that feeling of security go? _What was a family?_

A hand ran through curls of long, blond hair, playing with it. He felt his stomach flip, turn, then attempt puking itself out of his body as the question shot across his mind. He always thought he knew, but it felt like that definition he conjured up was quickly slipping away. Not as if it was being _corrected_ per say, more like the entire thought process that led to its very conclusion didn't matter anymore. Like _it wasn't real_.

His foot moved a little left and touched something cold.

His iPod. It was a depressing grey color because he couldn't make up his mind when his Papa had decided to get one for him and his brother. Alfred made it _very clear_ that he wanted his custom made red and blue with white stars all over it. Matthew was too busy trying _not _to make a statement about it that his Dad ended up dishing out the idea of grey. Matthew felt he couldn't even argue as the grey-colored iPod was put on the cartoon internet ordering cart thing along with the awkwardly somehow found red and blue iPod with white stars all over it. Even now that iPod was halfway wrecked and slung across the room (on accident of course, Alfred can't hold in his "odd" strength) unlike Matthew's, which was clean and spotless, just like when it was bought. (Indicate which iPod the one on the floor is more clearly. I thought it was Matthew's at first, so call the iPod the "awkward" one.)

His foot had run across the touchpad because for some reason last night, he had forgotten to put it on hold, and the volume turned up rather loudly, a random song he stuffed in playing through the room.

Matthew rolled his eyes and bent down to pick it up. His eyes couldn't help but trail back under his brother's bed.

The suitcase was still there. And it looked as if it had been pulled out recently, unlike many other messes Alfred refuses to clean up. Still, it looked dashingly new, no matter how old it seemed to be. Matthew sat up and stared at the blindingly white screen of his iPod. The ear buds were dancing on his lap with the loud music.

It wasn't purely curiosity but it was something along those lines. Matthew had leant in closer to his lap to listen to the song. Of course, the music was quite loud, but it at least looked like he was _trying_ to find out what was playing. "--Who gives a damn about the family you come from? No giving up when you're young and you want some—" Matthew brought his face away and scrutinized the dull MP3 player. He didn't even remember when Mika got into his iPod, "—Running around again… Running for running… running around again… running for running."

Even as the last "running" was playing, his fingers moved to turn down the music. But that's when he realized his brother, who he then realized was in the bathroom, decided to finish up the song instead. There was a rather scratchy scream-sing-sound, and that's all Matthew would really think.

"I was a boy! I'm an open doo-or! Why you starin'? D'Yousta think thatchu knowww." The younger twin wanted to giggle. He was already screwing with the lyrics along with his _dreadfully beautiful_ toneless voice. The next part was almost too painful to hear. It was almost a miracle their parents hadn't burst through the door calling 911. "Look at the trea-asure with the things thatchu thru like ma-agpie! I live for glitter not you!" And _oh god_, his voice was _cracking_ all over after that. Matthew quickly burst into the bathroom, only to find out he had tackled his almost-naked brother holding a toothbrush that was covered in spit due to the fact he was _singing into it_ while he was _clad _in only _navy, star-covered _boxers.

He quickly sat up with a red face and smacked his brother's left arm. The "you're a frikken' idiot" almost went unheard through the older's boisterous laughter. There wasn't even anything to be boisterous about. Matthew laughed with him.

-----

**Chapter 3: Human Habits and Dysfunctions**

The boys, to their surprise, hadn't woken up their parents. There was no clean breakfast waiting at the table, there were no fake smiles waiting for them down the stairs, and most of all, there was absolutely no awkward silence. It wasn't unusual for their Dad and Papa to wake up a little too late to wish their boys off on a good school day. In fact, most of the time, they had to go up and wake the two. But they didn't. They deliberately skipped breakfast, grabbing their bags filled with undone homework and grabbed a few dollars laying about the kitchen counter before walking out.

Other than that, they aimed for a normal day.

They were glad to see out in front that their Papa's car was parked neatly in the driveway unlike the day before. They weren't even pestered by a freaky Asian lawyer who wanted to know where their house was. Nope. It was like nothing ever happened. It was just a normal school day as they went to school. And that's all they needed to think.

Just Like Normal. With all capital letters like when you make a title or create an acronym. Alfred was making crappy excuses like usual, including _something_ along the lines of asexuality and snails, and Matthew was just going on about life as the invisible student he was. It was Just Like Normal.

After first period, however, there was a fire drill. Not that anyone knew it was a drill, but it's happened so much that it was almost easily assumed a drill. There were still those who hopelessly believe their school _really had_ been shot down or had a lab accident that caused a school-wide evacuation so that the kids could watch in wonder as the flickering fire burnt down their beloved school, but barely any after at least middle school.

Alfred, who shared Matthew's first hour class, was sitting on a brick wall behind the school, holding ear buds and watching as his _custom-made_ star-covered red and blue iPod swung back and forth weakly. Matthew was watching how it was almost coming alive, scratches and all, screaming to him, "Please save me and send me back to my manufacturers_!" _with sincere hope, tears streaming down its square face. His own iPod was snug as a bug in his left jean pocket, almost laughing mockingly at the poor treatment his brother's iPod was receiving.

The younger Jones child decided he'd keep these rather exclusively disturbing thoughts to himself and turn to watch their school "supposedly" burn down.

It wasn't long before they heard a "Hey, like, isn't that them?" from not too far away. Alfred retrieved his iPod and Matthew turned to the source. Indeed, a certain transvestite, southern-guy-and-boyfriend, and fidgety kid came dashing down to where the two were sitting peacefully. Matthew felt bad for labeling them so harshly instead of using their names, but the true fact was that he still really hadn't memorized their names and that his brother was sadly rubbing off on him way more than he would probably like.

It was around that thought he decided to _not_ label them anymore. Quickly before they came, he looked carefully at each of his new friends and tried to drag out their names, practically mumbling them under his breath. His brother turned to him shortly to question his sanity but he waved it off.

"Like, that was, like, totally a bummer huh?" Feliks huffed, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was like, going to, like, go to science and dissect a frog." Everyone except Alfred visibly gagged to the idea. Feliks laughed mockingly and said something about them having, like, no backbone.

"I don't know. I was headed towards math. I'm glad to be out of that class." Raivis nearly stuttered. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"I don't know, he tries to be nice! Although, his teaching is sort of… bad." Tino mumbledBernard only shrugged in agreement. Not that he ever seemed to disagree with whatever Tino said. Maybe Matthew _was_ a little curious about them but again decided against asking.

"Like, yeah, and he, like, _totally_ hates me." Feliks agreed, puffing his cheeks out much like an eight-year-old girl would when she couldn't get the toy she wanted to play with.

Matthew only laughed. He couldn't really relate. No one really noticed him, so at the same time he had no problems socially. Other than that he was ignored, that is. Alfred, however, was surprisingly quiet. Indeed, he had Mr. Green (and needless to say, was hated by him like any other teacher on the face of the Earth that ever knew him) but it was like he was dazed. His face looked as if he were drawing a blank and nothing else. He looked like he was hit in the back of the head with a blunt object.

No one really noticed but Matthew though.

"Where are you two going?" Raivis mumbled to Tino and Bernard. The two looked at each other then laughed. Or at least Tino did. Bernard made an off-looking smile.

"Ah, just Sex Ed. You know that story ha ha!" They both looked a little red for something that sounded a little too casual.

Matthew was tempted, but he didn't ask.

They were all laughing when the principal's voice boomed through the speakers, saying one thing or another before actually admitting that it was a drill. No matter how many people already knew for a fact that it was, there was still a collected groan when "drill" was mentioned.

A bunch of popular girls were just coming out of the building when the principal started talking. They were most likely in the bathroom doing some extreme precautions for their makeup before leaving the building. As awful as it sounded, Matthew imagined what would happen if there really was a fire and they were _still_ in there complaining about how the sun destroys everything visual. They noticed a group already heading in and snuck a few back-steps into the school again before hurrying to the bathroom to adjust their makeup _again_.

Alfred punched his arm.

"What?" Matthew grumbled, turning to his brother with a sharp glare. Which, of course, didn't affect said brother at all.

"That was for this morning." he said with a grin before walking ahead of him.

Just Like Normal.

-----

Feliks pulled him right out of the classroom after English, a class Matthew hadn't noticed they had together until then.

"Hey, so, like, have you heard about the runaway boy?" He looked just as perky as ever, despite the fact he was being teased _the entire period_ for wearing the wrong uniform _again_.

"What? Do you mean that brown-haired one?" Matthew noticed that when he mentioned brown hair, Felik's seemingly neverending good mood dropped substantially.

"The rich one? Yeah."

The hall was somewhat deserted. But that was to be expected before lunch. Even the fattest, slowest kid would have to sprout wings and runner legs in order to at least get a little bit of the good lunch. Usually when they ran out (which they usually did) they'd pull something pretty bad out. Matthew was more than used to that serving of lunch and gave up trying to make it past the crowd of fat kids and hungry people.

It seemed Feliks didn't really care much either.

"What about him?" Matthew asked, watching as his friend paused every now and then to examine the oily, unclean public school walls littered with fingerprints all over it. He didn't really get an answer until they hit the sophomore history hall. Feliks stared blankly at an enlarged student-created (not to mention badly drawn) map of America. There were little notes about American History and Government stapled all over it and pop-out quiz sheets at the bottom. The smaller blond was fiddling around with the pop-outs, distracting himself.

"…What do you, like, think about it? Running away?" he asked after a while instead of answering. Matthew grumbled inwardly. Sometimes it felt like most people just _loved_ to ask questions but when someone actually asked them the question, which, doubtless, they know the answer to, they usually avoided it and asked another one. Especially teachers. Teachers loved to do that. Weren't they hired to _answer_ questions, not _ask_ them?

"…I never really thought about it," Matthew mumbled after a while, not giving much thought to it. But when he had said his answer, he began to ponder it on a "yet" scale. Was it because he just never actually _needed_ to? He thought about his family back at his house, the circumstances. Weren't _those_ reasons to ponder running away? He hardly thought so, but a part of him seemed to get excited about the idea. Probably the childish part of him who still wanted to join the circus when life just got too tough. _Like now_.

"Huh," Feliks said, smiling. "I have." He ran a soft, girly hand down the side of Nevada that connected with Utah blankly.

"Where do you think the rich brown-haired kid is now?" Matthew asked without thinking. Feliks flinched a little then looked about the map.

"He's still, like, here," Feliks mumbled from under his breath.

"H-He is? You know where he is?" Matthew countered quickly.

Feliks stared at him with sharp green eyes. Matthew immediately shut himself up and flustered under the stare. It was, if not scary, intimidating. "I do," Feliks said under his breath, trying to make it hidden.

"S-So know him?" Matthew whispered back, putting the pieces together.

They looked like a couple of girls gossiping in the hallway.

"Y-Yeah," Feliks said, looking to the side before blushing weakly. His hand held his other thoughtfully; his upper front teeth bit his bottom lip insecurely. He looked like a lovestruck [girl, almost like Juliet after she had met Romeo. "He's my best friend."

Matthew didn't know what happened after that, but he did remember the story. They were tracing states on the map, alone in the hallway before lunch. The younger Jones twin knew that his brother, like usual, was probably waiting for his arrival near the lunchroom, but he didn't want to move or intrude. He just listened, feeling awkward and prying just by hearing it. Even if it was voluntary.

Feliks first started about how they became friends. The missing boy's name was Toris. Their families were close. Both of their dads were like brothers that could never be separated, but Toris's mother was nothing less than a gold digger. All she really cared for was the money. Eventually Toris's father died. Everyone was appalled, but not Toris's mother.

"She kept, like, looking for a way to get richer," Feliks whispered, face twisting into anger. His perfectly polished fingernail was practically ripping through the cheap construction paper on the map. "Eventually, she found the Braginskis who told her to sever all ties with, like, everyone. It was totally stupid." Matthew never thought "like"'s and "totally"'s could sound so menacing.

"Toris wasn't allowed to see me and had to start hanging out with their fat, pompous kid. We, like, hated it. Toris would, like, have to sneak out to see me and stuff." His hand traced around Colorado. "That was, like, when Toris told me that he had to run away. He didn't, like, tell me too much, but, like, I think it was because his mother was trying to get him to be wedded with that psychotic weirdo."

Matthew watched as he clenched a fist and silently let out a dragged out "Oh." He suddenly felt like what was going on around him was nothing in comparison. Even though his fathers could be such assholes sometimes, he felt they wouldn't do something as rude as to split him and his brother apart for money. They wouldn't do anything for money.

Then why were they getting divorced?

Matthew bit his lip and looked down painfully.

"So I'm going with him." The twin didn't even realize he had tuned out until he tuned back in to Feliks's last words. Matthew bit his lip and stuttered out what sounded like a "What" before mentally slapping himself. Feliks only laughed "Yeah, I'm, like, totally going to run away and find him."

"Don't you love your family?" Matthew asked without thinking again. He'd been so unregulated into a social life that he'd started to feel like he really should just shut himself up and go back to being the invisible, friendless Matthew he was. The one who spoke half-French, half-English, had a twin brother, and wanted to go home.

Feliks just looked at him, appalled for a minute. He, unlike Matthew, gave thought to what he would say before he said it. "Yeah, but I love Toris more," he said simply, as if it was as simple as that.

But Matthew couldn't wrap his head around it. It wasn't simple at all.

-----

His head was in the clouds for the rest of the day. Even during his lunch, which he had spent with the others catching up through the years and basically talking as if they really had been close friends through the empty time they sat together, his mind wasn't getting any clearer.

He wasn't even thinking. It more felt like he was in one of those type of states of in which you want to forget things ever happened and pretend the world was just peachy by creating an imaginary roadblock from where your memories are held to the part of the brain unconsciously functioned in school without paying attention. The roadblock would have to be pretty, seeing as the latter part was a rather large percent of a student's mind.

He hadn't even noticed, let alone cared, when Alfred slammed his locker shut right after he turned the last part of the combination to open it. In fact, he hadn't even made some sort of angry remark at his brother and instead just went back to putting the combo right back in.

"What's up with you?" Alfred said finally, a little ticked. Matthew finally shook out of it.

"Huh?"

"…Pfft. God, you look stupid." Alfred mused. Matthew pulled open his locker again before turning to his brother with a rather angry voice.

"What do you mean by that?" Alfred only laughed at him.

"I mean, you look so stupid when you're in a daze." He was about to knock the locker closed again when Matthew shot his hand in to stop it. Sadly, that part of his memory was slowly elapsing into the side that went about school without much thought.

"I was not… in a daze!" He had to pause in the middle of his argument to try and remember what Alfred had said right before then. Realizing how airy he was, he rubbed the back of his head and groaned. Alfred only looked at him skeptically. "Look, okay, I am. Can I get my stuff without you bruising me with my locker so we can go home now?"

Matthew wasn't sure what got into him the second the last part of the dialogue was said, but he definitely didn't feel like himself. The amount of students in the hallways were already diminishing quickly save for the depressed AP students who were currently holding a pile of books higher than them and attempting to get through the door without dropping any. But even they were beginning to shuffle out.

Alfred had a straight face on. It wasn't serious but it wasn't his usual goofy grin either.

"We're not going home."

"What?" Matthew stated dryly. He didn't _ask_, he _stated_. It wasn't a "What, really", it was a "That's not what I want to hear" what. Suddenly the memories from the previous night flooded back into him, along with the many fights that transpired in his household. He clenched his weakened stomach.

Then the thoughts he had on what Feliks had told him that day.

Alfred hadn't noticed any of these actions at all however. He only smiled and laughed. "Yeah, we're gonna stop by Starbucks first. Bernard and Tino planned a get together between the, uh," He paused and took out a few fingers to count with, "Between the six of us, yeah."

Matthew felt a realization wash over him quickly. Things felt _a little_ better.

But the thoughts that had rushed back to him so fast remained ever so slightly. He couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if he were to runaway.

Or worse, if Alfred had decided to run away.

Starbucks wasn't too far off from the school, nor was it too far from their house. It was like the dead center, the radius in between. It didn't take long to get there, but since it took so long for the two of them to get ready and head off of the school campus, they were the last ones to arrive.

Bernard, to their surprise, was up and ordering. Tino had to run to him and add the two extra orders they needed when the twins had arrived. Other than that, everyone easily welcomed them, and they sat around a small coffee table usually occupied by those mad writers who _needed _a couch. Well, too bad, Matthew mused, they have the couches now.

"You guys are, like, late." Feliks laughed, sticking his tongue out. Matthew just grinned and took a seat next to him, the seat unoccupied on his other side was taken by his brother.

"I have a lot of homework tonight." Matthew sighed.

"That's, like, a lie. I have a lot of classes with you and we, like, barely get anything."

Matthew laughed to himself, withholding his "I know" because then he'd have to explain why he had three days worth of eight classes' worksheets to do.

Alfred just sat, not talking.

Bernard and Tino came back soon with six Blueberry Frappuccino Mediums and started passing them around. Raivis started complaining about how they bought too much and offered money. Tino kindly objected and said that it was on them, meaning Bernard and him. Matthew pondered if they had a shared bank account like married people do.

Like their parents don't.

"I'm sure!" Tino laughed innocently. In that either truthful or extremely convincing way. Raivis eventually gave in and stuffed the ten dollar bill back into his pocket. Matthew and Alfred could barely offer anything but a thanks. Their parents stopped giving them allowance months ago. For Alfred, it was because he failed every single one of his classes. For Matthew, it was because he temporarily lost his phone for a month. Either way, their parents either hadn't forgiven them or they didn't have the time.

And Matthew was _sure_ it was the latter.

"M' pr'tty r'ch," Bernard said simply, offering one of those lop-sided smiles of his. Tino only nodded in agreement.

"He's right! This isn't anything for us, I've got a good amount of money too." Toni started passing out straws. Everyone did a unanimous thank you before Feliks declared that they should have a group toast. And they did. Immense sipping was heard afterward.

-----

Alfred had pointed out that it was around six o'clock when they finally headed home. They ended up spending hours buying really strong coffee and chugging it like they were in a beer contest. Feliks left looking like his eyes were going to pop out, Tino was talking a mile a minute, Bernard was even more incomprehensible than he usually was, and Raivis's natural shiver added with coffee made him so animated that he looked like a constant bobble head. Alfred and Matthew had refused the contest, afraid either one of them would lose and would have to pay. They had no money.

They got home without too much of a fuss and were glad to see no lawyer car out in front when they walked in.

But it was dreadfully quiet.

"Dad? Papa?" Matthew called, shutting off his grey iPod and walking a little further into the house. No lights were on despite it being twilight. Alfred was right behind him.

He quickly saw two silhouettes sitting around the kitchen table with their arms crossed and eyes closed. Two bottles of strong wine were empty and in front of them.

"Welcome home," their Papa said with a shivery voice. But it wasn't drunk. It was completely sober. Matthew and Alfred knew their Papa even when he took the slightest sip of alcohol.

Their dad, on the other hand, was obviously drunk. He didn't speak.

"Your Dad and I have been worried," the Frenchman continued. Matthew and Alfred dropped their bags by the door and crawled into the kitchen like lost kittens. Even Alfred, who was trying his best to look up and cunning, was dragging his feet across the ground.

"I'm sorry," Matthew said first, half whispering. "We were meeting up with a bunch of friends."

There was a loud slam emanating from the kitchen table. Their Dad had slammed his fist into the top.

"What were you doing with these friends?" the man they called their dad asked with a quivering voice. Doubtless both the empty wine bottles belonged to him.

Both of the twins had already recoiled and were slowly attempting to slip out of the kitchen.

"We were just drinking coffee at Starbucks."

"It takes you four hours to drink coffee?" their younger parent retorted, standing. Matthew shut himself up.

There was a silent moment between the family members. The younger twin was beginning to sob softly, wondering why their Dad had gotten drunk so late, wondering why their Papa wasn't stopping him from being so mean. He felt like a child who had ridden his bike too far and was found out. But it wasn't that way at all, there was absolutely nothing wrong with what he did. Though it's true this type of thing hadn't ever really happened before. If they stopped for Starbucks, they'd bring the drink home. They never had friends so it probably _was_ a surprise to their Dad that they were out so late.

"Dad!" Alfred cried out. Because although those conditions were true, that didn't mean their parent could drunkenly judge them at six in the afternoon holding an empty wine bottle. Francis was still silent. "Dad, we were _just_ at Starbucks with a bunch of friends."

"Why didn't you call us? Why didn't you _warn_ us?" Soft tears were forming in Arthur's eyes. It was quite obvious that he was worried.

"This sort of thing didn't happen before, okay? We, it was an accident," Alfred argued, voice getting softer as the words dragged on. Matthew felt his stomach churn again.

"Wouldn't it be _logical_ to tell us?" Arthur half yelled, tears spilling over the rim of his eyes. Francis was still silent.

Matthew couldn't speak either.

"Well maybe if you would stop drinking and start sobering up—" Alfred began but was cut off.

"My drinking habits have _nothing_ to do with what you've done, Alfred!" Their Dad made it worse than it actually was. Francis didn't speak a word.

"Your _drinking habits_," Alfred said, emphasizing the words, "have just about everything to do with how we're raised, if you haven't noticed! You frikken' airheads of parents didn't really care where the hell we were when you were fighting!" Alfred screamed, jumbling his words. Arthur was already on his feet, glaring with red-rimmed eyes.

"What do _you_ have to say about how we raise you two?! You don't understand the pain, the torture…"

"Oh, if it's so 'painful' then why the hell did you adopt us in the first place?!" Alfred yelled before the guilt trip started.

Matthew was on his knees sobbing. The room was dark. Arthur had an empty wine bottle in his hand. Alfred was screaming. The eldest parent wasn't stopping anything.

None of the family members had expected what happened next. It was like a flash of a shooting star, it only lasted a moment but burned itself into one's memory. It was like how someone could usually only remember the most obvious and stunning part of a person. It was that traumatizing.

And so Matthew remembered the details, of how the house vibrated with a loud _klunk_, a temporary silence taking over the household. Gleaming glass shards scattered about, reflecting the window's shine of twilight, each shard a different sunset color. It was like the world had stopped or slowed down, giving just enough time for Matthew to witness this, to be able to _describe it_, to remember it in _detail_.

Alfred had run to his room soon after, screaming bloody Mary about God knows what. Matthew had to stumble after, only glancing slightly behind him before actually leaving.

Arthur was on the ground, suddenly feeling guilty, angry that his actions were controlled by his intoxication. He was on his knees and hands next to an empty bottle of wine. Broken. He was crying madly, as if he had murdered someone.

Which he practically did.

And yet there Francis stood, silently watching. Matthew couldn't help but notice a hint of amusement in his eyes, as if he knew this would happen.

As if he set this up for it to happen.

It was then when Matthew realized that if he hated both his parents, he hated Francis more. A whole lot more.

He quickly stumbled up the stairs and into the room where his brother was.

Almost everything was a blur after that.

-----

It was about two hours before the boys got themselves back together. Two hours were spent crying about nothing and everything. Two hours were spent without a thought. It was almost as if the original wild-animal complex resurfaced, holding onto both of them. They were crying. But they didn't even remember why.

Sure, there was a reason they _should_ _have been_ crying, but for once, it felt like that reason wasn't nearly enough to have them to cry for two hours. It wasn't nearly enough reason to feel like they were lost entities floating around and doing nothing but watching the world collapse in front of them.

Alfred and Matthew talked for probably hours after that about nothing. Like songs. Or maybe school. Even unfinished homework. Heck, they _finished_ all their unfinished homework, and they were still up at about twelve o'clock at night, not sleeping.

Their parents hadn't dared to enter their room. It was like they were afraid of losing. Losing what, Matthew would have to contemplate on his own.

Neither of them smiled, no matter how goofy their conversations got. It was just extremely dull. Everything felt dull.

If their world had crumbled in front of them like they thought it had, they must have been thinking that they were floating on the remains, trying to grab at lost pieces so that they could put it back together.

But there were too many pieces.

Their stomachs were living on the single frappuccino they had had at Starbucks.

"You okay?" Matthew asked, watching as his brother rubbed the back of his shoulder. It had been bleeding profusely six hours ago. Now that it was wrapped up and cleaned, it looked a little better. Matthew had been glad not to find any pieces of lost glass inside of it.

"Yeah," Alfred answered automatically, still rubbing it. Matthew knew that it wasn't the pain that was bothering him. It was the memory that came with the pain.

A pain that wouldn't heal as fast as a flesh wound.

"I don't wanna be here anymore," Alfred mumbled after a while of silent rubbing.

Matthew could only nod. He didn't want to object like he would have if the incident of six hours ago didn't happen. He didn't want to care. _Anywhere seemed better than there_.

But to the younger Jones's surprise, his brother hadn't bent down to reach for that suitcase. No. He just grabbed his scratched up iPod and put on a random song and laid down on his bed.

Matthew went to his own bed and did the same, still watching his brother, waiting, as if he knew it would happen but it didn't.

And he fell asleep wondering why, even though his brother's breathing softened into an even pattern, that suitcase was absolutely not touched that night.

And he still wondered even as Alfred disappeared the next morning.

-----

**A/N: Feedback appreciated!**


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